Ruby Gold Ring

The ruby gold ring that my Grandmother wore and the teeth that she took out at night,
and that orange fluffy cat that would purr round my legs on the porch with my hair permed up tight.
These thoughts are crocheted like the dresses she made for that drawer full of small plastic dolls
in her house I recall, with that angel food smell, and the brown panneled wood on the walls.
And there was an attic with boxes and dust and with rafters too fragile to climb.
but all it contained even then had decayed,
every news clipping ravaged by time.
 How quick we dismiss the details we most miss from a life twenty years out of sight,
But I still remember the ruby she wore, and the teeth that she took out each night.